


The King of New York

by Grey_Water_Ghost



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Iron Man - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Cocaine, Drug Use, Heroine, M/M, Minor Self Harm, Minor Thoughts Of Suicide, Minor Violence, Mob AU, No one in here is romantic, Slow Build, Steve is 30, Steve rogers is a mob boss, Tags may be added, This is stony, Tony is 19, Tony is kinda a slut, Tony is trying to find himself, Undercover Work, big age difference, but Tony fucks a lot of people, but hes just a hurt kid, detective tony, dub con if you squint, kind of, minor prostitution, there's more to life than it seems
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-01
Updated: 2018-04-17
Packaged: 2018-10-13 13:17:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 19,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10514532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Grey_Water_Ghost/pseuds/Grey_Water_Ghost
Summary: Tony Stark was 19, a year out of college, and doing absolutely nothing with his life--and that was how he liked it. Howard gave him enough to keep a crummy apartment and keep himself alive, and his minor hacking let him make enough money to pay for his... habits. But with the sudden death of his parents and an unwilling deal with the police, Tony is thrust from his comfortable coked up life in California to going undercover in a drug ring in New York. Who is the Captain--what did he have to do with his father--and why is he so... captivating?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, this story has been sitting in my computer for about a year now and I have decided to finally do something about it! I am currently without a beta so I'm sorry for any mistakes! Please head the warnings, I'll give extra ones in the chapter notes but this story does include a lot of heavy drug usage and minor self harm / suicidal thoughts. Those will probably appear around chapter 4 and will be very fairly warned.   
> Please let me know what you think! Still a WIP! :)

“Mr. Stark?”

BANG! BANG! BANG!

“Mr. Stark!”

 

“Aw, fuck!” Tony ripped his eyes from his work, instead turning to his stash left out on the table. “Fuck, fuck! Uh, coming!” He called to the door. The teen grabbed his shit by the handful, careful not to let any of the white packets fall and ran to the bathroom, shoving it all into a hidden compartment in the wall. When he made it back to the front door, he opened it just enough to not look suspicious as he gave the two policemen a lazy smirk. 

“Can I help you, officers?” He drawled, giving the cop a clean ‘up down’. Two of them, both huge walls of muscle. Great. Not like Tony could out run a normal cop, but there was no way in hell he could get away from these two. 

“Mr. Stark?” The taller of the two asked, “May we come in?”

Tony almost laughed at that, and on the end of his high, he let out a half snort. Like hell he was going to let anyone in without a warrant. He’d just stashed away enough drug paraphernalia to make a middle school drug dealer shit his pants, not to mention enough cocaine to land him in federal. No thank you, Sir. “Why?” He demanded of the officer. He knew his rights; he was a Stark! He was fine… 

And yet the cop’s eyes moved to his partner’s, exchanging a look of… pity? Shit, bender aside, did he really look that bad? He hadn’t showered in a few days, spending all of his time at his computer or over his notes. He had pencil and ink smudged all over his neck and hands, his hair sticking up in odd directions and his clothes were more than a little rumpled. 

“We just need to speak with you, Mr. Stark. It would be more comfortable in private,” The younger cop added. 

Tony Stark hated cops; got that beat into him at a young age. But the way that guy was looking at him…

“Fine, yeah, come in,” Tony moved away from the door to let the two inside. Something in the pit of his stomach told him that this wasn’t about coke or some petty security hacks. He closed his laptop, tossing his notes and some blue prints out of the way to make room for them at the ‘kitchen’ table. After a long and really uncomfortable pause, the young cop spoke. 

“Mr. Stark--”

“Tony,” He butt in.

“I--what?” 

“Tony. My name is Tony--well technically it’s Anthony but I hate that, only my parents call me that. So don’t call me Mr. Stark, I’m barely even an adult anyway.” 

The cop paused, clearly a little flustered with his correction. “Right,” he took a deep breath, “Tony. Uh, this is actually about your parents.” 

Shit. Tony knew he wasn’t the best kid there was, and it wasn’t like his father was the most lawful man out there, but he wouldn’t put the old man about getting some cops to hunt him down and rough him up a bit. He was disappointed that Tony didn’t’ want anything to do with him after college. Tony told him flat out that he didn’t want a piece of that damn company he was in. It took up all of Howard’s time, and Tony hated the damn thing on principal. Because of that fucking company, Tony had never really gotten time with his father, other than when he came home in a fit.

“What about my parents?” He asked him, straightening up in his seat. Yeah, that shook his high off real quick. 

“Well, uh, there was an accident back in New York,” The older cop stepped in, “And, well, we need you to come and identify the bodies.” 

 

“Fuck.” 

 

\--

 

Tony didn’t really remember the trip from Malibu to New York. He flew private, and to be honest he spent the entire day high out of his mind. He could barely stand to see Howard when he was alive; his dead body would be even worse. 

They told him that the car accident burned him up real bad, him and Maria--that was why they needed Tony to come in and identify them. He told them he wouldn’t be any better than anyone else, giving how little he saw them in person. They said he was blood, though, and he would do. 

The morgue was cold. Real cold, especially when Tony was used to Malibu heat. But laying there on those slabs, Tony knew it couldn’t be anyone else. 

“Yeah,” he mumbled, his hands balled into fists of his jacket. “Yeah that’s them.” 

There was a woman with him this time; a detective by the name of Hill. She kept giving Tony this funny look, and he figured it was because he looked like hell hit him with a semi-truck. “I’m sorry for your loss, Mr. Stark.”

“Tony.”

“Right. Tony. I’m sorry. Would you mind coming to my office with me? Having a chat?” 

Anything to get out of that cold fucking room. He nodded, following her out and into her office. Except the second he was in the room, he was damn sure it wasn’t an office.

“Detective Hill, this is an interrogation room,” Tony observed, looking at the desk and two chairs, the mirror on the side of the wall, the single light above them, “Don’t tell me police funding has been cut  _ that _ much…” 

“Mr. Stark--”

“Tony.”

“--take a seat.” Detective Hill sat down at the table, motioning for Tony to do the same. He hesitated, knowing that he had full right to leave this place given that he wasn’t charged with anything, but decided to play nice for now. 

“Gonna offer me water? Coffee? I get better treatment at a hair salon,” He quipped as he sat down across from her, folding his arms in front of him, tugging his sleeves even further down. 

“Mr. Stark--”

“Tony.”

“--do you know what your father did for a living?”

And there it was. Tony smirked, sitting back in the chair now. So this was  _ that _ conversation. Lucky for him, Howard had been preparing his son for this shit storm since he could talk. “My father runs--ran--Stark Industries, a small weapons company. All American. Wanted to make the world a better place.” 

Detective Hill nodded, “Were you aware of any side businesses that Howard Stark was running?” 

“No. Dad didn’t like me much, didn’t want me involved in any of that shit.” A lie, but it wasn’t like he was under oath or anything.   
“Mr. Stark--”

“Tony.”

“--your father’s involvement in the Howling Commandos was more than public knowledge. We need your help to make movement in the case against them, it would put innocent people out of harm's way, getting them off the street.” 

Tony leaned forward now, giving the detective a glare, “Look, Detective Jones--”

“Hill.”

“--my parents just died. I just became an  _ orphan _ . I literally  _ just _ looked at their dead bodies, and you’re asking me to start naming names so that you can pretend you’re doing your job to take down the mob?” Tony hissed, “I’ve had a real bad day, and I ain’t no fucking narc, so unless you have real reasons to keep me here, I’d like to leave.” 

The detective sighed at that, reaching into her pocket and producing a small evidence ziplock. “Actually, Mr. Stark--”

“Tony.”  _ Fuck _ . 

“We do.” She showed him the bag, which contained one of his very own baggies of blow. “This fell out of your pocket on the walk in. Can you tell me what this is, Mr. Stark?”

Shit… in his grief had he really gotten that sloopy? But it was only one baggie, he could talk his way out of this. Tony sat back, his face hardening to stone as he looked at her. “Oh, gosh, I don’t know… anthrax?” He drawled.

“Mr. Stark--”

“Tony.”

“--I belong to a special division of the NYPD that is dedicated to keeping the streets safe from organized crime like the Howling Commandos. You’re an incredibly gifted technician, and we have been watching your work. You can more than those little hack jobs you’re using to pay for shit like this--”

“Objection--”

“--we don’t need you to name names, we just need you to unlock some of the files your father’s code is protecting. And in return, we’ll make this,” She held up the baggie again, “go away.”

Tony licked his lips, thinking it over. It felt like lead in his stomach, having to do anything that even remotely had to do with his father, but if these people knew about the hacking, that meant they had been keeping tabs on him. They probably knew a lot more. 

“Fine.” 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New York sucks, but hey--so does Tony.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this one is a little longer, since the beginning chapter wasn't too much. Just wanted to get the ball rolling. Still no Steve in here, sorry about that! He'll show up in the next one. WARNING: Mild dub-con, explained in the end notes.

Moving all his shit to New York was a pain in the ass. Tony didn’t like going outside too often, one of the reasons he holed himself up in his room to work, and he was more than looking forward to a chance to just get back to that work. Not to mention he was itching for some blow.

  
But that, it was proving, would be rather difficult. Since he got an apartment in New York, that stupid Detective Hill and her stupid partner Detective Fury almost never left him alone. They told him he had to be sober for the job and Tony told him that just wasn’t gonna fly. He couldn’t focus without the drugs. They wouldn’t get it, no one did. There was so much information in his mind, so many things flying around, that most of the time Tony couldn’t even grasp it.

  
The coke worked wonders on his busy mind. It gave him tunnel vision of sorts, at least for information. It let him focus on just one thing, working as fast as his mind seemed to go, and he got shit done. So what if he was destroying his body? He always had a feeling he was gonna die young anyway. He might as well get some shit done in the meantime.  
So they brought him into the station and had him work in this death room with an officer to “keep him company”. The damn guy wouldn’t stop staring at him the second he turned to his computer. If Tony was going to get his data back to his apartment so that he could hack it in peace (hack, god, what a dated term…), he needed a distraction.

  
It felt like prison.

  
“Hey, Jones!”

  
“Parker,” The officer corrected him, but looked up from his own desk. Tony gave him a winning grin, his feet propped against the wall and work completely abandoned on his desk. “Yeah, whatever. So, are you gay? Or like bi or something, or are you just… giving off that vibe?”

  
Parker huffed. At first he had been offended and flustered by Tony’s questions (the first of which being, “So, Parker, what’s the deal? You circumcised?”), but after two weeks he had gotten more than used to it. Still, he gave the tell tale reaction that Tony had been waiting for, blushing a looking off to the side, “I have a girlfriend who I love very much, Tony.”

  
“Didn’t answer the question~” Tony sang back at him, but spun around in his chair, looking at the laptop once more.

 

The code that Tony was working on was hard, and even he would admit it. Howard wasn’t just some rich dude who was kinda smart--he was a genius. And Tony was quickly figuring out that he didn’t want anyone without a password to get into these files. Sitting here and staring at them didn’t seem to be doing him any good, and he knew that he wasn’t going to make any progress with a weak ass high and in this fucking white walled room.

  
Tony had tried requesting that he bring the information home, but Detective Hill told him there was no way in hell they were trusting him alone with this stuff (he was a liability, it seemed). The teen wanted to clean his hands of all things his father as soon as possible, so that meant either smuggling coke into the NYPD, or getting the information back to his apartment. While Tony lived for danger, he figuring bringing the information out would be a lot easier.

  
“I’ll remind you that my sexuality is none of your business, Tony,” Parker told him, looking back at his own work.

  
Tony took the chance to plug in his personal flash drive (ugh, an actual flash drive, kill him now) and begin the download process. Not everything, just enough to get a start on this monster. “Yeah, but you’re a little too defensive. If you were just straight you would have said so by now,” he reminded him.

  
“I don’t like labels, okay?” Parker finally admitted, and Tony looked back over, giving him a triumphant smirk.

  
“So you like dick.”

  
“Shut the fuck up.”

* * *

 

When Tony got home, he pulled the flash drive out from his underwear. They patted him down like a goddamn criminal going in and out of that room, but Tony figured they must have gone through hell to get the code in the first place. He tucked the drive in his lock box, hidden under his bed for now. He had the code, now he just needed some… inspiration.

  
The brunet tugged on his favorite skinny jeans, his faded ACDC shirt, and a black hoodie before heading out. He had more than enough cash to get him some good stuff to think, but if a blowie got him a discount… well it was a discount after all.

  
The downside of moving to New York (even if it was only temporary) was that he didn’t have any connections up here. His dealer back in Malibu told him the name of a club he could probably get some shit at, but even then there was no guarantee. So Tony found himself wandering out of his Manhattan residence and into a seedier part of Brooklyn. There was a flashing sign for a gay club by the name of “Assgard”, which was a pretty cheesy name, but a club was a club, and if there were people trying to have a good time, there were drugs. Club drugs weren’t his favorite, but it might be a step closer to a dealer.

  
The minute Tony stepped inside, he felt out of place in his hoodie. The pounding bass line made his very bones shake, and his jacket was all but ripped off of him as he made his way to the bar through a mess of sweaty dancers. Which kinda sucked because he liked that hoodie and it was cold as balls outside, but oh well. Tony had barely ordered his drink before he had a man at his side. Good. Tony had a fantastic fake ID but an older man never hurt.

  
“Hey,” The blond greeted. He wasn’t anything special, but he sure wasn’t an eyesore. It made things easier. He had on similar clothes to Tony; sinfully tight leather pants and a muscle tank that showed off his arms. And god, did he have arms! Tony had long since accepted his muscle obsession (fetish?) and this man’s almost made up for that… questionable facial hair (it was only okay when Tony did that).

  
“Hey,” Tony greeted back.

  
“I’m Fandral,” He introduced.

  
“Tony,” He answered over the music.

  
“What are you drinking?” Tony told him, and the blond ordered them two more.

* * *

  
“So,” Tony looked at him through hooded eyes, his hand trailing up his muscled arm three drinks later. The two of them had relocated to a more private lounge. It turned out that Fandral was good tries with the owner of the club and had access to the VIP area. In there, Tony got to meet a few of his friends, but not the owner yet. When he saw his other options, he was glad he’d settled for Fandral.

  
“You know,” The blond drawled, “we have some… recreational fun.” Once more, Tony fought the urge to roll his eyes. After five minutes with the dude he could tell he had drugs on him, and thirty minutes of alluding to it later, Tony was sick and tired of sober flirting.

 

“Yeah?” He breathed, “Like what?”

  
Finally (finally!), Fandral pulled the chain around his neck to remove a silver bullet. He held it up, motioning for Tony to move closer. Upon further inspection, he saw that it had a valve on the side, and several holes on the top. Tony grinned and straddled his lap, twisting the valve and bringing the bullet up to his nose. He took a hit from the silver capsule and groaned immediately. He laughed, his head falling back and brought the bullet to Fandral’s nose, giving him his share. The drug took effect quickly after two weeks on forced ‘t’ break. He let out a whoop, taking Fandral’s hand and stumbling over himself to stand, his body not moving quite as fast as his mind.

 

“Come on,” He urged, “Come on, let’s dance--I wanna dance!”

  
The rest of the room laughed as the two rushed onto the dance floor together.

* * *

Now that he had a little something in his system, Fandral was a lot more attractive. It was hard to keep his hands off of them as they danced, but thankfully that seemed to be a full contact sport. He pressed close to the blond, Fandral’s muscled chest against his back as he moved his hips to the music. Tony closed his eyes as lips found his neck, and he sighed in delight. His whole body felt alight, awake, and his mind was finally at peace.

  
Tony felt alone in the club. He could feel Fandral: the heat of his body, the press of his outlined muscles against him, his hands moving from his hips lower and lower, his cock hard and wanting against his ass, but Tony felt disconnected from it all. The music took control of his body, making him sway his hips and grind back with the beat. He could hear the bass in the middle of his throat, but he couldn’t find the words.

  
“Come on.” Fandral was pulling at Tony now, and he was surprised that he didn’t fall over, considering he couldn’t find the ground. How long had they been dancing? Hadn’t they only just started? “--need another hit.”

  
Tony found himself pressed up against the bathroom stall door with Fandral kissing his neck. There was a hard leg between his own, and Tony only realized then that he was also interested. He took the time to grind against it, moaning and dropping his head to the side.

  
“Shh--shh, little Firebird,” the blond hushed him, his voice breaking with laughter, “Shh, we have to be quiet…”

  
“Hey! Fuck somewhere else, some of us are trying to take a piss!”

  
But Tony just moaned again, and Fandral took the chance to silence him with his lips. He wasn’t the best kisser, but anything right now made Tony feel like he was flying. He deepened the kiss, and the blond’s lips tasted purple--he loved it.

  
“Here, shh... “ Fandral kissed his neck, making Tony tilt his head back once more. There was a tickling sensation a little lower and when Tony moved to see what it was, a strong hand held him in place. It tickled as Fandral snorted the line off of his skin, and he couldn’t help but laugh again.

  
“Share!” He whined, kissing Fandral’s neck in turn. Off to the side, the blond filled his bullet again from another baggie, giving it to Tony, who took a much bigger hit than he had before.

* * *

  
“It’s cold,” Tony complained, stumbling out of the club on Fandral’s arm.

  
“Don’t worry, Firebird, I’ll keep you nice and warm.”

 

* * *

  
“Fuck!” Fandral slammed into him again, Tony’s head crashing into the wall behind him. “Fuck! Yes, hgnn, yes…”

  
“Ah! Shit--fuck, that hurts!”

 

* * *

  
“Fandral…” Tony shook the blond, his hard and aching next to his naked form. “Fandral--wake up!”

  
“Hmmmpf, go to bed, Firebird…”  
  
Tony huffed, sitting back in the sheets and taking his cock in his own hand.

Men…

 

* * *

  
There was a phone buzzing next to Tony’s head. His eyes refused to open and he rolled off, stuffing his face into the pillow next to him. The buzzing only continued and it was making his small headache that was coming on even worse. He reached over for the stand, knocking down a glass and a pointy-god-knows-what before he retrieved the phone.

  
“Hello?” He slurred, blinking awake now that he had no choice in the matter.

  
“Fandral? Where the fuck are you! Thor needs you are Finest right fucking now!” The other voice on the line shouted.

  
“Huh?” Tony sat up now. As he looked around, the pieces of the night before came back. This wasn’t his apartment, this wasn’t his bed… but it sure as hell was nice…

  
“Fandral!? Fuck--get your cocksucking ass down here before I skin you alive!”

Tony looked down at the phone, still able to hear the yelling from his hand and hung up on the caller without much else. Obviously the message wasn’t for him… but in that case, where the hell was Fandral?

  
Tony slipped out of bed, putting the phone back on the table and wandering out of the bedroom. He was still naked, but that didn’t bother him much.

“Fandral?” He called, peeking into the kitchen.

  
“Huh?” Tony turned to see Fandral in a towel in the doorway, grinning back at him. “Oh, you’re up. I was going to wake you once I got out of the shower, I have to get going to work.”

  
Well, then the work phone call made a bit more sense. “Yeah, someone called you,” he told him, gesturing back into the bedroom as he walked over. He had barely been awake for five minutes and he was itching for something to take the edge off. He would have to bring some home if he wanted to get any work done anyway, and Fandral seemed to be in good supply--or at least know a good supplier. “I would have rather showered with you, though…”

  
Fandral chuckled, stealing a kiss from him again, “Sorry, Firebird. But I think I did a number on you last night, you could use the rest.”

  
Shit, had he? Tony hadn’t looked into a mirror last night, but his hips did hurt like fuck, not to mention the throbbing in his head that felt like more than a hangover. “Well then maybe you could make it up to me…?” He fluttered his lashes at him.

  
“Well, what would you like?” He asked, pulling him back into the bedroom so that he could get dressed.

  
Tony sat down on the bed, watching him for now. He could start the search for his clothes later. Or maybe just take something from Fandral. If this was going to be a regular hook-up it hardly mattered. “Well something to keep me busy all day would be nice~”

  
Fandral turned to look at him, his lips pulling into a smirk. “Oh, you want a little something to keep you busy…?” He pulled on some pants, jumping up and down a bit to get them all the way up on his hips. He then reached into his top drawer, pulling out two packets of white powder. “You are a needy little thing, I’ll give you that. If I didn’t know any better, I might think you’d never gotten high before!”

  
Tony rolled his eyes, but stood up to snatch the packets for him before he could name a price or something. Perks of sleeping with the man. “Well let’s say I hadn’t in awhile. But damn, that stuff was good--where did you get it?”

  
“I know some people,” Fandral shrugged, “They get some really quality stuff made, it’s a great mix, don’t you think?” Tony nodded. “H is a magical thing…”

  
Tony paused, the baggies feeling hot in his pocket. “H?” He asked him.  
The blond nodded, “Yeah, it’s a mix called Valhalla. Cocaine and Heroin. It’s great, right?”

  
Tony swallowed. He never meant to get into the big stuff. Sure, cocaine wasn’t really minor league drugs, but heroin was… well that was bad shit. Still.. his high from the night before was amazing. The rush was instant, the power of it… and it wasn’t like he was shooting up, snorting heroin wasn’t as bad as shooting it. Not to mention, that Valhalla stuff actually seemed to make his brain shut the fuck up for a little bit… “Yeah,” He nodded, “Great stuff.”

  
“I’ll text you later, okay?” Fandral pulled his shirt on, tossing Tony his own so that he could get dressed. “I’m running a little late to work--they were probably who was calling--but I’d love to take you out again tonight. You’re a real nice dancer, Firebird.”

  
Tony looked down, feigning a blush as he pulled on his pants. What the fuck was he getting himself into? “Yeah, sure, you got my number?”

  
“Yup, got it last night before I knew you were a sure thing,” He winked, giving him a smack on the ass.

  
Right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dub-con: Tony is high and unable to fully consent. 
> 
> Feedback gives me life! Please let me know what you think so far, this is still a WIP so suggestions are more than welcome :)


	3. Chapter 3

The cold city air both woke Tony up and made him wish he could crawl back into those silk sheets. His hoodie was probably still somewhere back at the bar, and Tony crumpled into himself, trying to combat the wind in only a t-shirt. When he checked his phone, the teen swore at the glowing screen. Not only was he cold and hung over, but he was already an hour late to work.

Going back to his apartment was the ideal solution, his skinny jeans were a little stained and his shirt smelled like booze, but he didn’t have time to make it all the way back to Midtown from Brooklyn and then head to the station. Hill would already have his ass for being as late as he was. Tony settled on darting into the nearby thrift store to grab himself a new shirt and hoped for the best.

“Good morning,” The red headed woman behind the counter greeted.

Tony was already rushing to the men’s section and only glanced over at the petite woman, “Yeah, hey, good morning,” He grunted, not paying any mind to the calculated look she sent his way.

Getting a shirt that didn’t look like it belonged to either a 13 year old or a 70 year old proved to be a little difficult. But after ten minutes of yanking shit from hangers and shoving them back into whatever nooks and crannies he could find, Tony found a plain green one that wasn’t horrible. He changed right there in the store, pulling out a ten and passing it to the woman on the counter.

“Wearing it out today?” She asked, an amused smirk coming over her face.

Tony fought the urge to snap at her about it, knowing that his declining mood wasn’t her fault--god he felt itchy. “Yeah--I guess I am. Here, I’ll uh.. donate this one.” He tossed the old shirt over the counter, “I don’t really need it any more, uh, keep the change--” He was already walking out the store door as the woman tried to protest (and who could blame her, who wanted his booze infested shirt? No matter how cool it looked…), rushing down the street before she could stop him.

 

* * *

 

When Tony made it to the station, he wasn’t all that surprised to see Detective Hill standing next to his desk, arms folded over her chest and glaring at him.

“Stark--” She growled but Tony waved a hand at her, stepping into the room and stretching his arms over his head.

“Good morning, Detective Hill. Had a bit of a late start but better late than never, I always--”

“You weren’t at your apartment last night or this morning,” She cut to the chase.

Tony wrinkled his nose, “Okay, well, I’m glad you’re taking this whole ‘keeping tabs on Tony’ thing seriously... but I went out. I had a stressful day. Is that so bad?”

“You’re a junkie. You were under watch for a reason. It is so bad.”

“You know, I prefer the term, ‘recreational enthusiast--” Tony started but he shut the hell up when she held out the cup to him.

“We need you tested,” She declared after a moment of his stunned silence. Oh fuck her, she was even smirking!

“Uh, you know I have constitutional rights. You can’t just randomly test me,” Tony rolled his eyes, staying the hell away from that cup.  
“We are your employer now, Mr. Stark--”

“Tony.”

“--and we have the right to have you drug tested at any time we see fit. And now seems like a good time,” She gave him a wicked smile, “unless of course, you would rather we search your person and apartment instead?”

Tony’s stomach dropped into his feet. Yeah right, like that was a good idea. He had taken a quick hit before he’d left Fandral’s, it was too tempting not to. He knew he would test positive for heroin and cocaine if he peed in this damn cup, but that was better than them finding out he had Valhalla stuffed into his pockets and a super secret flash drive hidden away in his lock box...right?

“Yeah, okay,” he snatched the cup out of her hand, turning and stalking his way into the bathroom. “Making me pee in a fucking cup…” He muttered to himself, dutifully pissing in the cup he was asked to and returning to Detective Hill with a smile.

“Thank you, Mr. Stark--”

“Tony.”

“For your cooperation.”

Tony watched the detective leave, groaning and falling back into the chair at his desk. “Fuck…”

Officer Parker looking over at him, his eyebrows creased in what Tony might almost guess was concern. “You… do something last night?” He asked.

Tony threw him a lazy grin, “Come on, Parker. You know I’m not gonna admit to a thing.”

“Right,” He put his hands up, sitting back in his own chair, “Stupid question. Rookie question.”

Tony chuckled, the heavy silence of the room making his head throb even more, but at least it kept him present. On days like this, on hangover days, all the thoughts in his head were muffled. It hurt, but at least he could pay attention without getting lost in himself. “So,” He drawled, ignoring his work computer completely. “Why is it so important I hack into this damn coding anyway?”

Parker looked genuinely surprised at that question. “Well, your father was a Howling Commando. If there’s even a tiny chance this coding has any information on that--we’ll do anything to get our hands on it.”

Howling Commando… Tony knew his father did some less than legal things, but he didn’t know the nitty gritty of it all. “Look, New York may be my birthplace, but I was shipped off to boarding school as soon as I could walk,” Tony reminded Parker, “And I’ve been living in Malibu for the last year. What’s a Howling Commando?”

Peter rolled his eyes but decided to answer Stark anyway. “The Howling Commandos. They were kinda like a vigilante group. They were working out of Brooklyn, roughing up and taking down any gangsters, pimps, drug dealers--you name it. Every morning the station got a “present” from them; be it some confiscated weapons or felons ready for booking.”

“Don’t really sound like a problem to me, they did your job better than you,” Tony snorted. He was sure there was a downside, things with Howard always sounded better than they were. “So what happened?”

“Well, an organization like that could only remain faceless for so long. Pretty soon they needed a leader or Captain, if you will,” Peter smirked at what was clearly a play on words.

“You gotta explain the joke for it to make sense, Parker,” Tony reminded him.

The young man flushed, clearing his throat, “Right. Well, we started getting a name to go along with the deliveries: The Captain.”

“Sounds mysterious. And you think that was my dad?”

“No, no,” He waved a hand, “no. All the Commandos used Stark designed weapons--”

“Stark Industries stopped making weapons in 1982--”

“--that Howard Stark claimed were stolen from his personal collection despite overwhelming evidence that suggests they were made to order.” Peter sat back, giving Tony a satisfied smirk.

Fine. The cops win that round.

“So. This Captain fellow?” Tony reluctantly prompted.

“Right,” Parker returned to the story, “the organization started to get bigger, and we knew it was only a matter of time before until power got to someone’s head. It’s just what people are like, and this Captain had a lot of power. The good lasted for a long time, a surprisingly long time, but about a year ago there was a clear shift. Drugs were working their way back into Brooklyn, perps were showing up dead in the streets, in front of the station--”

“How did you know it was the Captain and his Commandos?” Tony frowned.

“See, this is where it gets kinda creepy,” Parker leaned forward, and Tony found himself doing the same, “We didn’t at first, but the Captain gave us a signature. A blue star on the chest of each of his victims.”

Tony actually laughed. “That’s… so lame!” He rolled his eyes, “You’re kidding me--this guy is serial killing bad guys and wants to do a little finger painting on the side?”

“People died, Tony…” Peter sighed, rubbing his eyes. “And if we can get something on the Captain from this, or any of the Howling Commandos we can put them away before it gets worse. So that’s what we need.”

“Well, what do you know about the Captain? I can’t do all the work for my boys in blue, Parker.”

Peter pulled out a case file, setting it down on the desk for Tony to see. “He’s ex-military, a man by the name of Steve Rogers. He took control of the Commandos real early on, enough that we think he was one of the guys who built it. When they weren’t killing people they weren’t too much of a problem. We stay out of their way, they stay out of ours. But… I mean, when bodies start piling up…. We don’t like the bad guys, but we have a code. Justice. The right way.” He ran a hand through his hair, “And to make matters worse? About a week ago the Captain started cleaning shop, we think something big is going to happen and soon. That’s why we need to get him away as fast as possible.”

“A week ago.” Tony narrowed his eyes, his focus sharpening in on every aspect of Parker’s face as he reviewed that little story. A week ago… That was when his parents got in their wreck. And these cops said Howard, himself, was a Commando….

Parker grimaced, “Yeah, Tony… a week ago.”

“So what you’re saying is--”

“STARK.”

The door slammed open, and Detective hill was standing there, one hand on her hip, close to her gun, and the other holding a file in a clenched fist. “Up,” She ordered, “Hands above your head, step away from the desk.”

Tony reeled back for a moment, completely confused as to what she could be talking about. He rolled back in his chair, his hands moving slowly as he watched her. So he got high, she even said he was a junkie--what had she expected? “What the fuck is this about?”

“You took Valhalla last night, how the hell did you get that?” She hissed. Peter reacted sharply to her words, standing up as well and staring at Tony in shock.

“Valhalla?!”

“Woah, woah,” Tony stepped back again, “I took drugs, that’s what I do, why does it matter what mix I did?”

“It matters,” Hill hissed, “Because Valhalla is currently being distributed by only four people, all of which work very tightly with Thor Odinson!”

“Tony, how did you get this?” Peter took on the role of good cop, approaching the teen slowly. “What did you do last night?”

“Okay,” Tony focused on Peter now, because he seemed to be the only one here on his side, “I went to a club! I took what I got, I didn’t ask where it came from!”

“Cut the crap, Stark, I’m writing up a search warrant right fucking now, I knew we shouldn’t trust a Stark--”

“I’m telling the truth!” Tony huffed in frustration, “I was hooking up with a guy and he gave it to me!”

“Was he a dealer,Tony?” Peter asked carefully, putting a hand up in an attempt to calm down Detective Hill, “Do you know?”

Tony rolled his eyes, “Yeah, he was a dealer he had a big supply but clearly not the guy in charge if that’s what you’re asking.”

Tony’s words hung in the air for a long moment, Parker and Hill sharing a look that made Tony’s stomach drop into his feet. This… wasn’t good. What had he gotten mixed up in?

“Stark,” Hill turned back to him, “You got an in with this guy? Think he would meet up with you again?”

Aaaaand, there it was. Tony grimaced, “Look, I’m not some sort of undercover cop and I’m not a fucking narc so I don’t--”

“Tony, come on,” Peter put a hand on his shoulder, “this is grounds to search your apartment, even your home back in Malibu, how much are we gonna find there? How long could we put you away?”

“You threatening me, Parker?” He hissed, his eyes narrowing as he quickly lost control of the situation.

“I’m trying to make you see reason, Tony,” He corrected him, “If we can take down Thor Odinson, we can help a lot of people.”

“Thor Odinson?” He repeated the name, “Am I supposed to know who that is?”

Hill crossed her arms, “You agree to help and we’ll give you the full briefing. But you make that choice now--and if it’s a no you’re under arrest.”

Tony scrubbed his hands down his face and grunted, “Fucking--fine. Okay. Show me the goddamn powerpoint presentation…”

 

* * *

 

 

“Thor Odinson. Thirty years old, and a citizen of both the United States and Norway. He does a lot of traveling between the two countries, smuggling money and his own notable strain of drugs called, ‘Valhalla’,” Parker read off to Tony, “He’s bringing in the drug, then switching to the much cheaper black tar once his customers are hooked. Now, we don’t want any heroin running around our city but this stuff is bad news. It’s really low quality and causes a lot of overdoses. Since he’s been in the area, we’ve seen a 40% spike in drug related deaths.”

Tony frowned; that was a big number. He had always vowed to keep off the big bad stuff like that, it was easier to overdose on and fucked up people’s lives. But… hell, why had he thought that? It was amazing, he felt alive with that rush, he felt like a god.

No wonder it was so dangerous.

“Now, Odinson is a real menace,” Hill cut in, “He and his people are extremely violent, and to add insult to injury, they know the law pretty well. They’ve been throwing it in our faces that we can’t pin anything on them since the day they set foot in New York.”

“So… this is pretty personal?” Tony rolled his eyes, “Got it. You have a vendetta.” He flipped the pen in his hand around, putting all this information together. So Fandral was probably a member of this group, and right now he was working down at ‘Finest’ with this Thor guy--

“Wait,” Tony leaned forward, looking carefully at the pictures before him, “So, Thor is connected to the Captain?”

“What?” Hill’s head snapped around, “Why would you say that?”

A smirk pulled at the corner of Tony’s mouth and he crossed his arms over his chest. Okay. So he was putting this together a little faster than the cops. Well, not too out there considering he was a bit of a genius. “I want immunity,” He demanded, “I’ll work with you, I’ll tell you what I know and I’ll help you bring them in but I want immunity and I want to do this my way.”

Hill glared back at him, “And by your way you mean coked up.”

Tony chuckled, leaning back in his chair, “Well… yeah.”

 

* * *

 

 

“Okay, so the mic is in your necklace,” Peter informed Tony, “Make sure you don’t take it off, or this whole thing is pointless. Try not to tuck it into your shirt, either, so we can have clear audio.”

“Yeah, yeah, okay,” Tony rolled his eyes, fiddling with the cross necklace he was now wearing. Ugh, so not him but fine, it wasn’t like he would have to wear it again.

“Now you want to draw a little attention to yourself as possible, Tony,” Peter reminded him for about the tenth time, “Seriously. Just keep your mouth shut and listen. These guys are pretty extreme and we’ll be around the block to pick you up if you get in a little trouble but you’re going into the lion’s den. You need to be safe.”

“Parker, the last thing I’ve ever been in my entire life is safe,” Tony huffed, but he had to admit the words touched a tiny part of his heart he didn’t want to admit existed. Someone cared about him, and sure it was a cop who just wanted to keep him alive so he could testify but he couldn’t remember the last time someone really cared if he came back alive… He was pretty good at pushing those people away. How long would it take to make Parker stop caring?

“Yeah yeah, okay,” He copied Tony with a smirk. “And your code if you need us?”

“Ask someone for a gin and tonic, yeah I know,” Tony assured him. He poked at the tiny device embedded in his ear, “You sure no one is going to see this?”

“Yeah, it’s pretty deep in there. It’s just so we can feed you information if you need it. Just don’t draw too much attention to yourself and you’re going to be fine, Tony. Really.”

“Who are you convincing there, Parker?” Tony quipped, “Me or you?”

Peter gave him a playful smack on the back of the head, but sobered up after a moment, “I mean it, you ass.”

The teen looked at his hands for a while, rubbing at old wounds and callouses, “Who is this Captain guy, Peter? Seriously.”

There was a long pause as he young man clearly tried to plan out how to tell Tony without freaking him out too much. “Honestly? We don’t know nearly as much about him as we want. He’s a classic story, grew up in a shitty part of town with a single mom, has druggie friends, probably uses a bit, himself. But not many people who know about Rogers will talk about him, and people who do? Usually aren’t around for long.”

Tony doesn’t talk to Peter again for a long while, just sitting at his stupid office chair while he waits for it to be late enough to meet up with Fandral. It figures that he would get himself into this stupid fucking situation. He should have just taken the drug charge in the first place and left all this Captain bullshit behind him. Howard Stark was still fucking him up, even from beyond the grave.

“I’m going to the bathroom,” He told Parker, ignoring his worried look as Tony left the room. Once he made it into the stall he pulled out a packet from Fandral, turning it over a few times in his hands. Why the hell did he even do this to himself?

Stupid question. He knew the answer. Even now, the burn of his last high was running down and he felt a splitting headache making it’s way to the front of his mind. He closed his eyes, sitting on the toilet and yanking at his hair. He’d been living with headaches for about as long as he could remember. One time, he had tried to explain it to Rhodey: there were too many thoughts in his head and not enough space, he couldn’t focus on any of them with all those ideas bouncing around.

“Fuck it…” Tony hissed, ripping open the baggie and using his arm to make a line. The moment the drugs hit his system again he felt like he could breathe once more. His eyes went out of focus as he stared up at the ceiling. Quiet. Finally.

The teen tucked the rest of the baggie away in his pants and washed his face in the sink before returning to Parker, an easier smile on his face. “Hey, Officer Big Boy, you ready for tonight? I’m gonna text Fandral now.”

Peter gave him a calculated look, frowning just a little bit. He looked like he wanted to say something, and Tony almost wanted him to. Come on, Parker. Say something. Say something.

“Yeah,” He laughed awkwardly, “Alright Tony.”

Right.

 

* * *

 

 

The minute Tony stepped into Brooklyn’s Finest he felt like he had been transported into another time. The whole place looked like a 1920s speakeasy; complete with heavy smoke, cloudy mirrors, scantily clad dancers, and an eerie red light around the entire bar. He walked up to the bar, checking himself out in the mirror and frowning. He looked way too fucking sober for this shit… He glanced to the left, watching a woman take the hand of a man from the bar. He slipped her a twenty and she pulled him away behind a curtain. Tony ordered a vodka.

With a little more courage inside of him, Tony spotted the roped off VIP section towards the back of the bar. Well, if there was anywhere he belonged it was going to be there. He marched his way over, giving the bouncer a smirk and reporting that he was here for Fandral. Before he had to think of anymore questions a voice was calling out to him,

“Firebird! You’re here!”

Tony turned with a big smile, seeing the blond man waving him inside. He pushed past the guard and gave him a sloppy kiss. The blond looked pretty fucked up already and Tony ran his hands up his chest, “How could I not? I missed you.”

Fandral laughed, dragging him into the back lounge where Tony took a happy seat on his lap. There were about ten other men in the lounge, cigar smoke hanging heavy, and there was a girl with another man in the corner. She looked completely out of it, with glazed over eyes as she sat on his lap. He watched for a moment before he realized she was riding the other man and quickly squirmed around to pay attention to his own date. Right. Okay.

“Firebird, you’re such a good sight to see, it’s been a long day…” Tony smirked at the praise, and felt his body flush as Fandral groped his ass openly.

“It’s been a long day for me, too,” He sighed, blinking up at the bigger man as temptingly as he could, “think you got something to take the edge off?”

He let out a booming laugh, slapping his ass before pulling out the bullet from the night before, “God, you’re such a little slut! Here, come on have your fill my precious.”

Tony hummed, taking two easy hits from the bullet and letting his head fall back in delight. “Fuck, you got all the nice stuff, babe…” He drawled. Fandral was touching him, but he wasn’t present any more.

Tony flipped the razor back and forth in his hand, looking at the fine white line he had made on his text book. Was he really doing this? He scrubbed a hand across his face.

“Okay. Come on, don’t be a pussy,” He taunted himself. This stuff was supposed to make it easier to think, that’s what the guy in his lab had said… Tony bit his lip and leaned down, snorting through half the line before he had to lean back and cough a few times.

His eyes opened as wide as they could and he could feel his heart pounding in his ears, in his fingers, in his toes. “Fu-Fuck!” He laughed, then finished the line and stood up. Everything was so much brighter, and he could finally move as fast as his thoughts. He went back to his board, furiously reviewing his project. How could he have been so stupid, of course! The answer was right here….

“Tony, you have a fucking job to do, do it!” An angry voice hissed in his ear, dragging Tony back to reality. He swallowed a few times and cleared his throat, “Wanna dance again?”

“I would, Firebird, but I have a little work to do first okay? Here--Thor!” Fandral called out, waving over a gigantic blond man who was just walking into the section. “Thor, I want you to meet my little firebird!”

The blond man had his hair pulled back into a low bun and a wicked grin on his face. Tony shivered; he was huge.  
“Holy shit, that’s him,” Peter spoke now in his ear, “remember Tony, be quiet and listen.”

Thor ran his eyes over Tony slowly, and he squirmed for a moment before Fandral’s hand squeezed his hip. Right. This was the boss, and he probably wanted to show off.

“He’s nice,” Thor grunted, taking a seat across from the two of them. “He a good fuck?”

Tony had to try hard not to laugh. Half of the NYPD was listening to this, fucking… great.

“Oh you wouldn’t believe how tight his ass is,” Fandral purred, his hand slipping under his shirt to rub Tony’s chest. “He’s an absolute slut. Just give him a little blow and he’ll spread it anywhere, isn’t that right Firebird?”

Tony hummed, turning to mouth at Fandral neck as he nodded, “Mmhm,” He agreed.

“Oh, god, Tony…” He heard in his ear, “change the topic?”

“We might have to test that,” Thor drawled, his hands moving to join Fandral, giving his body a feel. “What do you say, little one? I don’t bite.”

Tony turned to look at Thor, and saw the baggie hanging in his hand, “Wanna earn yourself a treat?” His mouth was watering, and somewhere in the back of his mind he knew that this was pathetic but the other part of him remembered that powerful rush and he wanted more. One last night of this, he might as well get a good ride from it.

“Yeah, okay,” he nodded, slipping from Fandral’s lap to the floor between Thor’s legs.

“Tony, you don’t have to do that, seriously,” the voice in his ear warned and Tony wanted to laugh. Didn’t they know by now that he was a good for nothing junkie? Didn’t they put two and two together and realize he was a worthless slut? Yes. He did have to do this.

Tony ran his hands down his thighs, rubbing the dealer through his pants and gulped nervously. He was already half hard under there and he was huge. Tony liked a big cock as much as the next guy, but he had to admit it was a little intimidating.

“Go on, Little One,” The older man urged, “Don’t be scared. I won’t hurt you.”

Tony mouthed at the fabric for a few moments before pulling him out. His eyes widened and Thor laughed loudly.

“That’s it, Firebird. You like a big cock, don’t you?” Thor taunted. Tony didn’t say anything and the older man yanked at his hair, “Come on, little one. Say it.”

He shivered and licked his lips, staring up at him with big eyes, “Yes,” he croaked, “I love big cock.” Okay, a little cheesey but if it got what he wanted he was fine with it. Before Thor could make him say anything else he busied himself, taking the head into his mouth and moaning around it. He wrapped his hands around the base since there was no way he was going to be able to take that all down his throat. Above him Thor groaned.

“You got good taste, Fandral. Look at this little cock slut!” He pushed Tony’s head down and the younger man almost gagged as he suddenly had to take more than he was planning on. “Fuck, that’s right, suck it down, you needy little bitch.”

Tony started up a slow rhythm, losing himself in the sensation. He found his mind wandering back to the code, maybe if he tried--

“Fuck! Yeah, fuck that’s right, I’m gonna mess that pretty little face up. I bet you’ll let me and Fandral fuck you right here, you desperate whore…” Tony hummed, that might be a good way to spend his night, coked out of his mind and a good fuck. Fandral wasn’t too bad but it seemed like Thor was going to be good. There was a commotion behind him, and Thor’s hand tightened in his hair almost painfully. Had he been doing something wrong?

“What the fuck is this?”

Tony froze, but so did Thor, who was still holding him down. He tried to turn around but was a little preoccupied with a cock down his throat. The man who spoke moved around, and Tony finally got a good look at him.

And… holy shit. He was bigger than Thor was, just as muscled, and he was devastatingly gorgeous. He was terrifying, though, with obvious guns strapped onto his chest under his coat, and a very pissed off expression. He locked eyes on Tony (who suddenly remembered that he still has a cock in his mouth) and growled.

Before he could think the man was yanking Tony back by his shirt and sending him across the floor. He fell back on his arms and stared up at him with big eyes. “Hey, what’s the problem?” He shot, trying to act like he wasn’t about to shit his pants.

Thor spoke before Tony could fuck up the situation any more, “Captain! I didn’t know you were coming in tonight, we were just having a little fun, that’s all.”

“CAPTAIN!?” The voice in his ear made Tony flinch. The cops were going nuts. “Get the hell out of there Tony, get the hell out right now, the Captain is much bigger fish than you can fry right now. Don’t say anything, you hear me? Tony!”

The Captain, Tony suddenly realized, turned his piercing gaze from to Fandral and Thor as his frown deepened. “Who the fuck is that.”

Tony swallowed, looking at Fandral, then Thor, and back to the Captain. “Uh, Tony,” Fandral told him.

The Captain moved back to the group, clearly not happy with the situation. “Are you fucking stupid? You don’t even know his fucking last name! Stop thinking with your cock and grown a damn brain cell!” Tony flinched back, scooting away on his hands for a moment.

“I’ll, uh, I’ll just be on my way, then…” He muttered but the Captain whirled on him now, watching as Tony stumbled and tried to stand, but the room was spinning and wow, was that stuff this strong yesterday?

“What the fuck is he on?” He hissed.

“Valhalla,” Thor shrugged, “He’s a junkie, Captain. Harmless.”

Steve growled, shaking his head in disgust, which made Tony wonder for a moment. The Captain and the Warriors Three were working together, why would Steve be bothered by the fact that Tony was fucked up? “How old are you?” he demanded from Tony.

The teenager had to blind a few times before he even remembered his own name and coughed out, “Uh, uh twenty-one.”

The slap was sudden, hard, and sent Tony reeling. He was back on the floor again and his lip was bleeding, he was sure of it.

“Everyone out!” The Captain ordered and the men in the room managed to scramble out of there in an impressive thirty seconds. Tony was just getting to his feet again when the Captain’s hand clamped down on his arm. “Not you.”

“Okay, Tony, stay calm. Just get out of there as soon as you can. Don’t upset him.”

Yeah, fucking great, Peter what the hell did he think Tony was doing--sight seeing?!

“I don’t like liars,” The Captain spoke to him in a deadly low voice, “Now how fucking old are you?”

Tony shivered under his gaze. The Captain had frighteningly blue eyes, like a husky. It felt like he could see completely through him, and Tony quickly realized he was going to die here. “Nineteen,” He corrected himself in a soft voice.

A long moment hung through the air, and before Tony could beg to just leave, the Captain sat down, dragging Tony with him to rest on his lap. It was a position Tony was extremely familiar with, but not one he thought the Captain would be interested in.

“There, now that’s a good boy,” he praised softly. Tony swallowed, the words going straight to his dick. “What are you doing here, good boy?”

Tony licked his lips, squirming on his lap and resting his hands on his chest. Jesus he was jacked! He could probably fuck Tony while holding him, absolutely destroy him without breaking a sweat…

“I, uh, I wanted to have some fun,” he admitted, his eyes going right back to the Captain’s lips. They were a deep red, plum, and looked like they would be a lot of fun to kiss.

“Maybe you should find out, then.” The Captain chuckled, and Tony tilted his head to the side for a moment.

“Whaddya mean?”

“You said,” the Captain ran his hands down his back, groping at his ass through his jeans, “that might lips might be fun to kiss. Wanna find out?”

Tony wasn’t sure how the fuck this happened, but he sure as hell wasn’t complaining.

“Tony, get out of there,” Parker warned him in his ear again but he didn’t care, he felt like he was floating and the Captain’s hands were under his pants now, massaging and kneading at his ass.

“I’ll be good,” he breathed, leaning forward and mouthing at the Captain’s neck, “I’ll be good for you.”

“Would you?” The man asked, his hands moving around to his front, now, taking his cock in his hand and paying it the sweet attention he needed. Tony moaned, Fandral and even Thor didn’t ever seem to really care about his pleasure. Maybe the Captain wasn’t so bad? “Would you be a good boy for me? I can get you all the Valhalla you want if you’re a sweet boy…”

Tony hummed, rocking into his hand as the world around him seemed to fade away, “I would do it for less,” He admitted, not even realizing the words as he said them, “maybe just some company…”

“Wow,” The Captain breathed, “You really are a slut, aren’t you?”

“I can be yours,” Tony tempted, his breath hitching as the Captain flicked his thumb over his slit, sending a shiver down his spine.

“Yeah? Pathetic.”

Tony was on the ground again before he could even realize the change in the Captain’s mood. He shoved him hard, and Tony’s head slammed on the side of the table on his way down. He looked up at him in shock; hurt and confused. “W-Wha?”

“Get the fuck outta my club, you hear me?” The Captain leaned down over him now, and Tony felt completely cold. “Don’t come back, don’t talk to Fandral, don’t talk to Thor, and if I see you here again I’ll cut you fucking hand off, understood?”

Tony just stared up at him in horror, and the Captain slapped him again.

“Understood?” He snapped again. This time Tony nodded. The Captain rolled his eyes, turned on his heel, and stormed out. The teen brought his hand to his head, it was bloody, but nothing too bad. The silence was deafening, and Tony needed a fucking drink.

“Wow,” He heard a crackle of static in his ear, “he’s… terrifying.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So... I kind of disappeared off the face of the earth. That's my bad. 
> 
> TW: self hate and self harm. See chapter notes for details.

Tony didn’t want to do this stupid ‘mission’ anymore.

There had been a lot of lows in his life, but getting half a hand job and then thrown on the ground and told he was pathetic by a mobster three times his size was definitely one for the books. Once he made it out of Finest, Tony went straight on his way home, completely blowing past the van outside that held his detective babysitters.

“Tony, hey come on, where are you going?” Peter spoke in his ear, but Tony just reached up, yanked it out and tossed it on the ground. Fuck if he was going to listen to some stupid cops right now telling him about everything he did wrong. He fucked up and he knew it, he didn’t need to see Hill’s stupid fucking face when she told him.

“Tony!!”

The younger man pulled his arms closer around himself, breaking into a light jog to get away, but Peter was faster and yanked him around.

“What?” He hissed, trying to make it as clear as fucking possible that he didn’t want to talk.

“Tony,” Peter gave him a firm look. He seemed a lot older, out of his police uniform and in normal clothing. “You’re a civilian, you’ve been hurt. We need to take you to the hospital.”

“Stop trying to cover your ass, Parker, I’m fine,” He rolled his eyes and turned to start walking, but Peter yanked him around again. Fuck, he actually did have a pretty shitty head wound and all this yanking was making his head pound even more. “Knock it off, Parker!” He snapped, “I said leave me alone!”

“Tony, please, you’re bleeding and you’re probably gonna have some nasty bruises, let me get you checked out, okay?” Peter was begging with him at this point, and despite not wanting to be anywhere near anyone else right now, Tony had to admit he had begun to care for the puckly young cop. Just a little bit.

“Fine,” He sighed, yanking a hand through his hair out of frustration. “But I’m only going with you, and I’m only going _for_ you, okay?”

Peter’s face did a stupid melty smile that made Tony think he might have a friend.

Gross.

* * *

 

The next morning Tony came into work and went straight to see Detective Hill. She looked up as he approached her desk, “Mr. Stark--” she cut herself off, but Tony just looked at her. There was a painful pause before she spoke again, “--right, uh, I’m glad you’re feeling better. Last night was difficult.”

Yeah, no shit. Tony rolled his eyes but kept back the snotty comment. He wasn’t in the mood for that this morning. He hadn’t gotten any sleep the night before, and he was sure it showed on his face. Tony couldn’t help it, but the events of the night before just kept playing over and over again on his mind. The Captain’s hands on his hips, his voice in his ear, the way the drugs pumped through him made him feel like he was red, pulsing and floating at the same time. It should have been great, fun even. People don’t turn down Tony Stark.

People use Tony Stark. They treat him terribly and use his body and his mind when they need it and kick him to the curb when he finally gets to be too much for them to handle, but people don’t turn down Tony Stark.

But The Captain did. When Tony closed his eyes he just saw those ice blue eyes looking back, that snarl and look of pure disgust. He saw a lot of disgust in his days, he was a junkie after all, but that was one of the only times it really _hurt_.

“I’m not doing this anymore,” He told Detective Hill flatly.

She just stared at him, blinked twice, then shook her head, “Tony. Last night was rough, but we still need you.”

“I don’t care,” He shrugged, “I’m not doing it anymore.”

“Tony,” Hill moved forward, trying to do that thing where she pretends that she cares about him so he’ll do what she wants. “Tony, we have a deal. You can’t back out now.”

Oh okay, wow. She wasn’t even going to try and appeal to him. It was straight to the blackmail. Well, good to know that was where they stood. “I really don’t give a flying fuck,” Tony told her, “Arrest me. I’ll get a good lawyer, I’m the heir to the Stark Fortune, after all.”

Detective Hill paused, looking at the paperwork before her, then back at Tony. “We can search your person, your apartment. We can put you away for a long time, Tony. We just need some help.”

It was weird, the way she was asking him for help. If Tony didn’t know any better, he might think she didn’t want to collar him (but she was a cop, and cops always were playing an angle, this was just a trick). Tony turned his back on her, “Then arrest me. Search my apartment. Send me to federal. I’m not fucking with The Captain.”

There was a long pause, and Tony almost made it to the door before Hill spoke, “Oh, Tony… Is that what this is about?”

Pity. Tony recognized it at once and it made his stomach churn. “Look,” He spun back around, his eyes flaring and his head just wouldn’t stop _pounding_ , “I don’t need you to feel bad for me because I got my ass kicked by a fucking mobster. I know when shit starts to get bad and I know when I have to leave. I stay here, I’m gonna get fucking killed, so just leave me alone--got it!?”

It was kind of true. He did think that if he stayed here he was going to get killed, but he was just as likely to get killed without the help of the cops. See, that was the worst part about all of this. He was disgusted by The Captain, just like The Captain was disgusted by him, but he also was so _fascinated_. The man was covered in so much mystery, and he worked with his father, and he just had to know more about him… but like fuck if he was going to do that with a cop in his ear.

“Tony,” Hill brought his attention back to the argument at hand, “we think The Captain is responsible for your parents’ murder.”

God, he already felt like shit, the last thing he needed was for this bitch to throw his head in a god damn blender.

“Excuse me?” He asked, but the conversation from before, with Peter, was back in his mind. The Captain had been cleaning house when his parents got in their car wreck. But, it had been a car wreck. An accident.

“We looked into your parents’ accident,” She went on to tell him, “And we found a lot of evidence to support that the car was tampered with. We don’t think your parents were killed by accident, Tony. And we think The Captain did it. Don’t you want to see justice for them?”

Tony clenched his teeth, “That’s cheap fucking blow, even for a pig like you,” He shot at her, “Lucky for me though my parents didn’t give a shit about me, so I don’t really give a shit about them either.”

Hill tossed an evidence bag onto the desk, and Tony moved forward to look at it. Inside was a picture, well worn and a little charred on the edges, but mostly intact. It was a picture of him, from his college graduation last year. Neither Howard nor Maria had even shown up.

“The fuck is this supposed to be,” He hissed, but his stomach was in big knots and he felt like he was going to ralph.

“It was in the glove compartment of the car, Tony.”

“Bullshit.”

“You don’t have to believe me,” Detective Hill sat back, “But I want you to think about it, okay? You have one day, come back to the precinct or we’ll collar you.”

Tony closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. She was giving him a lot of leeway, he could easily just skip town tonight and be in the wind before they realized. Hell, he could leave the _country_ by tomorrow. But it seemed like… she trusted him? No, surely not.

“Fine,” He muttered, turned on his heel, and left with a dramatic teenage slam of the door.

 

* * *

 

Tony pulled the packet from his pocket, staring at it in the bathroom stall for a long moment. The Captain said he was disgusting because he was a junkie. Or maybe it was because he was a little slut. Maybe it was because he was a slut _for_ the drugs.

“Fuck!” Tony shouted, kicking the stall door. In a fit of rage, he tossed the baggie into the toilet, flushing it down before he could stop himself. For a moment, he felt high in its own way.

Take that, _Captain_.

But then another stab from the headache hit, and Tony fell to his knees, gripping the toilet seat. He reached into the water, desperate and clawing at the back of the bowl. What had he done-- _what had he done!?_

* * *

 

 _“Tony, what did you_ _do_ _?”_

 _Tony looked up, his eyes wide in panic as he held the red cloth around his arms. “I, uh… Fuck, I dunno I was just--”_ _  
_ _“Just_ _what_ _Tony!?” Rhodey snapped, taking Tony by the jaw and yanking his chin up so they made eye contact. “Jesus! You’re fucked! Again! What the hell!?”_

_Tony yanked his head out of his grasp, standing up, “Look, if you’re not gonna help me I’ll get Pep to do it, it’s fine--”_

_“It most certainly is not fine, Tony--” Rhodey yanked him back around, “You are bleeding a lot. What the hell, why did you do this? Why do you do this?” Tony didn’t answer, just watching the red on the makeshift bandage t slowly spread. Rhodey shook him, harder this time. “Why, Tony?! Do you want to end up dead you idiot, you can’t keep doing this me--you sure as hell can’t keep doing this to Pepper! Don’t you care about us!?”_

_Tony licked his lips, his gaze going in and out as he stared at Rhodey, “Course I do, Rhodey, you’re my best friend.”_

_“Yeah?” Rhodey’s face was hard, the kindness Tony was used to seeing was gone from his eyes, “Not anymore.”_

_Tony looked down at his arms, shame bubbling up inside of him. He didn’t know why he did it, why he broke that mirror, why he dragged the glass over his arms. Why he had even bothered to call Rhodey when he realized it was bad._

_He looked up again, Rhodey was gone. He had finally pushed him enough… well, Tony had always been good at finding people’s breaking point. He slid down the bathroom wall, holding onto his bleeding arm again and closing his eyes._

* * *

 

“Fuck this,” He groaned, arms shaking as he vomited again into the toilet. He wiped his face, standing up. His legs felt like jelly, and his eyes looked too pale, but he didn’t look at himself for long. He didn’t want to.

Tony was almost completely out of the precinct when stupid good cop Peter Parker showed up.

“I don’t want to talk right now, Baby Face,” He snapped at him. He didn’t look up to see the hurt flash across his face. He didn’t need to.

“Come on, Tony,” The younger man sighed, jogging to catch up with him. Come on, Parker. What did he have to do to push this one away? How long would it take for him to stop caring? Maybe he could set a new record.

“I said fuck off!” Tony turned around, shouting at the other man. The two of them both stopped in their tracks, and this time Tony really did see the hurt on his face. He tried to believe that it was this stupid headache that made him want to throw up again, not that kicked puppy face.

“Tony,” Peter’s voice was low now, “please. Just… listen.” Tony didn’t say anything, but he didn’t walk away either. Peter continued, “The Captain and The Warriors Three are bad people. They ruin lives. That Valhalla mix--we need to get it off the streets as soon as we can. I know that taking drugs away probably isn’t something you’re in love with, but good lives are being wasted.”

Tony huffed, turning around to walk away, but his voice stopped him again. “The Captain is all that’s keeping The Warriors Three safe. If you could, wouldn’t you want to save someone else from getting hooked?”

The words hung in the air, and Tony let them sink in. There was a silent ‘ _too_ ’ in all of that. Peter must already know he was hooked. Did he see how much his hands were shaking? Did he know how scared Tony was that he wouldn’t be able to get another fix?

“Go home, Parker.”

* * *

 

He was a fucking idiot for tossing that baggie. And all for what--because he wanted to feel like he was in control? Because he wanted to prove to The Captain that he wasn’t some sort of drug-dependent loser? Fuck The Captain. All of Tony’s misery seemed to be coming back to The Captain.

“Fuck this,” Tony breathed out, grabbing his coat off the chair and leaving his apartment once more. If he stayed in this damn apartment trying to figure out this stupid code, he was just going to feel sorry for himself, and he was way too sober to feel sorry for himself.

His feet took him to Assgard before he could really think about it. It was still a little early in the evening, and he was not at all dressed to be at a club, but none of that really mattered to him. He just needed to get in there, find Fandral, suck his dick or something, and get a good fix of what he needed. He had nearly 500 cash in his pocket, he was willing to pay what he needed to in order to just _forget_ everything.

Tony didn’t bother even pretending this wasn’t what he was here for. He walked up to the VIP section, slipping past the bar and almost right into Fandral.

“Firebird!” He greeted with a smile, “I didn’t think I would see you here--and so early in the night! What’s wrong?” His tone went from happy to a little irritated when he saw the state that Tony was in. He was pale, his eyes looked dead, and he couldn’t bring himself to even pretend to like the other man.

“I’m not feeling great tonight,” Tony told him, stepping closer into his personal space. The bullet was hanging from his neck, Tony could just snatch it and take a hit. It would make his bones stop aching… “Come on, let’s get out of here. Get a good high, just enjoy ourselves.”

“Now now, Firebird,” Fandral sighed, stepping back and putting space between the two of them. “Trust me, I would love to. But I think you’ll have to talk to the boss.”

Tony’s eyebrow pulled together in frustration and confusion. However, Thor was quick to appear and explain, “You’ve been blacklisted, little one,” He informed the man. “Captain’s orders. You’re not getting any Valhalla any time soon.”

Jesus. Fucking. Christ.

The Captain. Of _course_ it was The Captain! That stupid asshole was able to ruin his life without even being there! The Captain was at work, The Captain was in his home, The Captain was stopping him from even getting a fucking _fix!_ The Captain was a stupid web and Tony couldn’t escape! Fuck being curious, Tony just wanted to be as far away from this asshole.

“Now now, little one,” Thor stepped up, clearly seeing the desperate panic in his eyes. “I can’t stand to see a pretty little thing like you looking so upset. I can’t sell to you, but I know someone who can.”

Tony’s ears perked up, and he looked at the blond with hungry eyes. “Yeah?”

“Mmhmm,” Thor nodded, “His name is Loki, he’s an associate of mine. It’s not as good as my mix, but it will help with those jitters.” He pointed at Tony’s hands, shaking at his sides. He flushed a deep red, shoving them into his pockets.

“Alright fine,” Tony nodded, “where do I go?”

* * *

 

This was a sketchy place, but that was to be expected with a drug deal. It was nearly on the other side of the city, tucked away between two alley’s and looked like a condemned little side building more than a place someone lived (but he supposed that was the point, wasn’t it?). Tony knocked the code into the door, and a few moments later it opened to reveal a tall, thin, man with wicked eyes and a heartless grin.

“I hope you know I’m not going to call you Firebird,” He greeted Tony with an eye roll, “Just come in.”

Tony followed the man into his ‘home’, looking around at the place. It was a mess, and the man looked like he never left. But Thor had said he was a good dealer, had the right stuff Tony would need. “How much?” He blurted out.

Loki looked over his shoulder as he stood in front of a little desk. “No sense of decorum, I see. Straight to the point. I guess that’s why that oaf likes you.” He turned around with a sigh, holding out a clear vial, filled with what looked like black liquid. “250.”

Tony stepped closer, reaching out to inspect the bottle but it was yanked away by the dealer. He frowned at the taller man. “What _is_ that.”

“Something to get you where you need to be,” He told him, “250.”

He looked at the little bottle for a long moment, but then grabbed the cash from his pocket, passing it to the dealer. “Fine.”

* * *

 

Tony didn’t remember getting home, but he remembered how the bottle burned in his pocket. Black tar. He just bought fucking _black tar_ like some sort of junkie.

_“Pathetic.”_

The words of The Captain bounced around in his head, and Tony slumped down the wall, pulling at his hair.

 

_“Seriously Tony? I thought we talked about this.”_

_“Come on, Pep, I’m just getting through this month. I’m not out of control!”_

_“Tony. You have a problem and I’m trying to help but--”_

 

Tony stumbled into the kitchen, looking through the silverware drawer, looking for his tools.

 

_“You know, they didn’t even bother to show up to my graduation.”_

_“Why not?”_

_“Because I’m a fuck up. I’m a mistake. I’m just some pathetic junkie.”_

 

Tony used his teeth to tighten the band. This was harder than it looked; finding a vein.

 

_“God DAMN IT, Tony!”_

_“I’m sorry--I didn’t--”_

_“You’ll never do anything good for this family if you can’t even manage to do this! Why the fuck did I bother with you!?”_

 

The lighter burned his fingers, but he didn’t care.

 

 _“Fuck, fuck this, I can’t--_ _fuck_ _!”_

_“Come on, just take it. A slut like you wants it hard like this, I know you do. You’ll do anything for a gram.”_

 

He falls back, his ceiling swimming before him and stars going off in his eyes.

 

_“Pathetic.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Tony flashes back to cutting himself with glass. Tony hates himself a lot in this chapter.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony takes a trip.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And I'm back! Gonna try and stay with this momentum.  
> TW: self harm and suicidal thoughts, see end notes for details.

Tony fell back on the kitchen floor, the pleasure of the shot flowing through him, but the world around him was spinning, changing…

* * *

 

_Other 10-year-olds went over to play at their friend’s houses. They watched TV and played pretend outside. Tony found himself holed up in his basement, trying to make something his father would finally be proud of._

_“Come on, work! Come on!” Tony urged the machine before him, trying to make the eyes light up like they had only a moment before. “Come on, buddy, you can do it…”_

_The robot whirred to life and greeted the young boy with a chirp. Tony fell back, laughing in success._

_“I knew it! I knew it--I knew we could do it!” Tony jumped up, wrapping his arms around the robot with a laugh, “DUM-E, we did it!” The robot moved his arm up and down, seemingly confused at the child wrapped around his neck. “Oh man, Dad’s gonna love this…”_

 

_“This is rudimentary at best, Anthony,” Howard shook his head, looking over the robot who chirped at him, tilting his head to the side. “You can do better than this. When I was your age I was doing better than this.”_

_“But… Dad, I made him all by myself… I didn’t even need help this time.” Tony looked at DUM-E, not understanding why his little robot wasn’t good enough. He seemed to understand him, he cared about Tony and was always trying to help… He thought his creation was good enough._

_“Oh so you think you’re a genius now?” Howard snapped at him, “You make one hunk of metal that works and you think you’re hot shit?” His words slurred a little bit, and Tony watched as the amber liquid in his cup swished up the sides. “Try harder. Don’t show me your ‘creations’ unless they’re actually good.”_

 

_“Hey, it’s okay, Dum, I don’t think you’re bad.” Tony sat on the floor with his robot, wiping at his eyes which were not at all wet even a little bit. “I think you’re a great robot.”_

_DUM-E chirped at him, reaching out and whacking Tony in the head in an action that seemed to be intended as comforting. “Hey, thanks buddy,” He laughed, “Now let’s work on getting you a brother…”_

* * *

 

_Tony pulled up from his tray with a sharp exhale, dropping the razor and  laughing a little bit. “Okay, okay, I can do this.” He ran his hands down his suit, looking himself once over in the mirror. He didn’t look too coked up, and who would even say anything if he did? He stepped out of the bathroom, entering the dinner party once more with a charismatic grin._

_“Oh, Anthony, don’t you look well!”_

_The teen took in the woman speaking to him. She was old, probably around 60, and had clearly dyed blonde hair. Her breasts looked like someone had shoved two grapefruits in her bra, and when she yanked him into a hug Tony felt the hard push of silicone against his chest. Fuck. What the hell was her name? His head felt sharper, though. Fewer words bouncing around, he could finally follow his own damn train of thought._

_“Joann, it’s so nice to see you again,” He recovered smoothly, “and don’t you look beautiful, how is your husband?”_

_She reached forward, pinching his cheek. “Oh he’s been replaced, darling,” she told him in a drunken whisper, “But the pool boy is_ _excellent_ _.” Tony laughed uncomfortably, and exited the conversation as soon as possible._

_As Tony reached for a glass of wine, he felt a strong twitch in his arm, a painful cramp that had him hissing in pain. What the hell was that? He recovered, grabbing the glass and stepping aside. Panic shot up through his body, it felt like his heart was beating too fast, it felt like his breath wasn’t getting into his body. What the hell was going on…?_

_“Anthony! Well, aren’t you looking more and more like your father every day!” He turned, seeing an older man barreling towards him and took a stumbling step back._

_“I--excuse me,” He threw at him, dashing back to the bathroom. He barely made it to the toilet before he threw up, his hands shaking and his vision going in and out. What the hell was happening? Was he dying? Was his heart finally giving out?_

_He pulled the packet out again, looking at the white power. Did he take too much? He felt like he was beating out of his chest, like his whole body was too weak to go this fast. This wasn’t fun, this wasn’t a good time anymore. He took the drugs to handle the party, to be okay standing in a room full of people and to not want to rip his skin off, he hadn’t signed up for_ _this_ _fucking experience._

_Tony stumbled to the front of the bathroom, looking at himself in the mirror again. He looked like hell, his eyes too wide, hair sticking up, his arms shaking as he tried to hold himself up over the sink. “What the fuck are you doing, Tony?” He asked himself. His stupid face just looked back at him. He fucked it up again. His fucked up solution to being fucked up got fucked up, too! He was a mistake, he was a fucking mistake. He couldn’t build anything right, he couldn’t excel in his class like he should, he couldn’t do shit. He was worthless. He was a waste of a bright mind, coking up just to be able to talk to another human._

_The mirror shattered, and Tony looked at his hand in surprise. It was bloody, there was glass sticking out of it. Did he do that? When had he done that…_

_It was kind of nice, though, the pain. It drew him back to his body, it made his heart feel like it wasn’t about to explode..._

_He reached over the counter, grabbing a larger shard of the mirror and holding it in a tight fist. It stung, and he watched the blood drip down his fist before he yelped, dropping it back into the sink. It actually looked kind of pretty, the way the light hit the glass, the way his bright red blood stained the crisp white of the sink._

_He threw his suit coat off to the side, grabbing another piece of glass and twirling it in his hand. It was sinking into his flesh before he even realized it. That beautiful ruby red splashing up against the reflective surface. He pulled, he dragged and added more and more color. A panicked laugh bubbled from his chest. This wasn’t too bad._

_His legs felt weak, and he slid down to the ground. The bright red was turning dark. Really dark. Was it supposed to be that dark..?_

_“Hey… Rhodey….” He managed to grab his phone, dialing up the one person he knew would come, “Rhodey, I fucked up…”_

* * *

 

_“Oh my god, you’re terrible, Tony!” Pepper laughed, slapping him on the arm as the three of them lounged on the couch. Howard and Maria had left (thank fuck) which meant he could actually come up from his lab. He was actually happy to lay down and relax with Pepper and Rhodey._

_“You’re surprised? I’m kinda a piece of shit, Pep,” he laughed with her, but Rhodey reached over to slap the back of his head._

_“Come on, Tone, we talked about this. Stop calling yourself trash,” He scolded lightly._

_“Well, actually, Rhodey, I called myself_ _shit_ _, it’s different.”_

_“You wise ass,” He rolled his eyes fondly. “Alright, I’m gonna grab another drink, you want one?”_

_“Yes please!” Pepper called out, but Tony just shook his head. “I’m gonna go to the bathroom, I’ll be right back.”_

 

_Tony rubbed his nose, stepping back from the sink with a laugh. This was some good shit, enough to really relax. He set up another line. It was good, he might as well really enjoy it. Besides, he was here and having fun with Pepper and Rhodey. And they weren’t mad at him. They actually seemed kinda happy with him. For a minute, he was able to believe it_ _wasn’t_ _just because of his money. He took another hit. And another. He felt like he was flying…_

 

_“Tony…? Tony!” Pepper stepped into the bathroom, looking at the body of her friend, slumped on the floor. “TONY!” He shook his shoulders, but he stayed limp. “Rhodey--Get in here! Something’s wrong with Tony!”_

_The man came sprinting in, seeing the status of his best friend and swearing to himself. “Call an ambulance, Pep,” he instructed, “I’ll deal with this.” Pepper ran out of the room; her cellphone already out._

_“Come on, you big idiot,” Rhodey cursed, making the younger man sit up. His eyes moved to the empty bag on the counter, the razor blade on the mirror, another line still set up. “Jesus, Tony, why do you do this?”_

 

_“Tony you could have died,” Pepper scolded him. He blinked around, the whole room was too white. Too sterile. Fuck. Howard was going to kill him if this got out. Way to ruin the Stark name…._

_“Well, I didn’t so let’s go. I gotta get back to the house, I have shit to do.” He tried to sit up, but Rhodey pushed his chest back down, “Tony. No. Both Pepper and I think it would be a good idea for you to stay here. They have programs, you know.”_

_“Progr--what the fuck, Rhodey, I don’t have some sort of fucking problem! I just got a little out of control, Jesus!”_

_“Please, Tony, it’ll be good for you.” Pepper said in a softer voice. Her eyes looked so desperate, it hurt. This was his fault. He turned to the side, unable to stand the sight of either of them._

_“Okay… okay, fine. Just like, go find someone for me to talk to?” He asked in a small voice. He glanced up, and Pepper looked so god damn relieved… he didn’t deserve her in his life. He was just going to hurt her more…_

_“Okay. Rhodey and I will be right back, you sit tight, Tony.” She nodded, placing a kiss on his forehead before walking out the door._

_Tony made himself wait a whole two minutes before he pulled off the monitors, slipping out of bed. He looked out the window; wasn’t too bad of a drop. He glanced over his shoulder, then yanked the window open. The wind made his hospital gown flutter, but he didn’t see his clothes anywhere, either._

_The force of the jump made him fall to his knees, scraping across the ground and cutting him up again. Great, who knows what kind of disease was in this fucking alley… It didn’t take long for him to get his bearings, though, and he had a hookup not too far from here. He had credit, he could get another hit._

 

_Yeah, he didn’t deserve Pepper._

 

* * *

 

_“Tony, I don’t know what to do with you anymore,” Rhodey sighed, his head in his hands as he sat across the table from Tony, watching him work on his current project. The man in question just grunted, not in the mood to talk about his ‘problem’. “Seriously! Tony, I don’t know what to do!” Rhodey hit the table, causing Tony to look up in irritation._

_“Don’t do anything,” He snapped at him, “it’s not a fucking problem and it sure isn’t your fucking problem. You don’t have to fix anything!”_

_“Oh come on, Tony, you really think I can sit back and watch this happen? You’re not just fucking up your own life, you’re fucking up mine and you’re fucking up Pepper’s!”_

_Tony flinched, looking back down at his work with clenched fists. “Look, I’m a fuck up. What do you expect.”_

_“I expect you to need me, Tony, but I expect you to meet me halfway! I can only help you so much and if you’re going to tear your life apart I can’t stop you!”_

_“Then don’t stop me! Fucking leave me, leave just like everyone else does!”_

_“I don’t want to leave you, Tony! But I swear to god, you can’t just expect me to sit here and watch you kill yourself!”_

* * *

 

He was on the Brooklyn Bridge. He didn’t know how he got there. He remembered walking at some point, and kind of remembered falling down in the kitchen. He glanced at his arm, bleeding through his shirt. Shit, what had he done?

Maybe he shouldn’t have taken that black tar. It helped his shakes, sure, it helped his body stop aching, but he felt like shit. _You can’t just expect me to sit here and watch you kill yourself._

Tony looked down at the water, watching it swirl ominously below him. Did Rhodey ever think about him? He must have heard that his parents died by now… but it wasn’t like he was going to call Tony or something. He made it very clear he was leaving if Tony stayed like this. He couldn’t stand to watch him like this, couldn’t stand to be around him. It made sense, Tony didn’t want to be around himself, either.

What would it be like to jump into that water? It was cold, probably. Was the jump long enough that it would kill him on impact? Or would he panic, fight for his life in the water as it pulled him down again and again? He didn't want to die, at least he didn’t think he did. But if he was dead, he wouldn’t have to deal with all of this. He wouldn’t have to deal with how much of a fuck up junkie he was, he wouldn’t have to deal with the police, he wouldn’t have to deal with letting down Parker like he let down everyone else. He wouldn’t have to deal with The Captain.

Would The Captain be disappointed in him, just another dead junkie?

Fuck that. Tony squared his jaw. The Captain wasn’t important in his life, The Captain didn’t matter in his life! “Fuck!” He shouted, pulling the lighter from his pocket, the little bottle, the syringe, and throwing it over the bridge and into the water. “Fuck you! Fuck you, you fucking asshole! You son of a bitch, you murdering piece of _shit_ !” He screamed, kept screaming, until his throat felt raw and he leaned heavily on the railing of the bridge. Fuck his life. Fuck his father. Fuck _him_ for letting it all get to him. His life was a joke, he was a worthless piece of shit and no amount of drugs and stupid jokes could change that about him.

But he wasn’t going out by jumping off a damn bridge. No, he was going out in Valhalla. Fuck The Captain, thinking he could cut him off. That will show him. He’s not about to die in some cold ass muddy water, he was going to get some fucking Valhalla and he didn’t care what he had to do in order to get it.

His feet took him to Brooklyn's Finest before his mind even figured it out.

* * *

 

Tony threw a hundred dollar bill at the man at the door, pushing past him into the bar. It was late, and there were plenty of people there. He was instantly transported back in time, just like that last time he came here. The smoke hung heavy, the red light behind the bar made it all seem risque. But Tony didn’t give a shit about any of that. He made his way to the VIP section he remembered from his time there with Fandral. There was a man at the door, clearly armed and looking fairly intimidating. He was big enough to do some serious damage to anyone, and even more so Tony. But that was hardly enough to stop him, he had nothing to lose anymore. He tried to push his way past the bouncer, but he yanked him back by his shirt, laughing at him.

“Come on, Little Boy, this area is for grown-ups only.” Tony felt his blood boil.

“I’m here to see The Captain,” He informed the man, who laughed even louder at his words.

“Come on, kid, get out of here. I’ll even let you leave in one piece if you just turn around and walk out right now. No need to make a scene.”

“No!” Tony shouted. He was fully ready to make a scene. Good, in fact, he hoped that it would inconvenience The Captain. “I’m here to see The Captain, let me in!” The man tried to grab him, but Tony dodged out the way, “I want to see The Captain! I want to see that asshole motherfucker right now!”

People were starting to stare, and Tony could feel how uncomfortable the bouncer was starting to get. He could also feel how angry he was starting to get. “You best step back, little boy,” He growled at him, his hand moving down to his gun.

“Let me see that cocksucker,” He hissed,”That mother fucking shit head Captain who cut me off! What the fuck is his problem?! I’m nothing, why the fuck is he even bothering with me!? Why am I the fuck up _again_? This fucking son of a bitch is ruining my life and I want to see his stupid fucking face and I want to fucking spit on it! This mother--”

There was a sharp sting, and Tony fell back in surprise He had been seeing red, sure, but had he really been so oblivious to the people around him? “What the… what the fuck…” He slurred, stumbling back and into a large pair of arms. Who the fuck was holding him…?

“Hey, hey,” A startlingly soft voice whispered in his ear, “Hey, come on, just relax, Anthony.”

Who the hell in this bar would even know his name…?

The world around him was spinning, and dots littered his vision.

“Don’t worry, I’m gonna take care of this….”

And then it all went black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Tony cuts himself with a shattered mirror and decides he wants to kill himself (but doesn't)


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Detox.

The world around him was soft and smelled like lavender. His mom used to smell like lavender, and the scent would wrap around him like a warm hug when she held him. Back when she held him. Before he got older, before he stopped being cute and started being a pain in the ass. It felt like he was on a cloud. He usually didn’t bother with luxuries like this (he didn’t deserve it). There was a blanket around him, heavy and warm. His mouth felt like it was full of cotton balls… his  _ head _ felt like it was full of cotton balls. What had he done last night…? He’d shot up, he went to the bridge, he-- _ fuck _ . 

Tony’s eyes snapped open, but he immediately regretted it. The light was like knives, his head felt like it was going to explode. But there was an important question that needed answering: where the hell was he? The curtains were open, revealing a countryside view. He was no longer in the city, but how far out of it was he? There was a plush carpet, an open door that revealed a large bathroom, a desk against the side wall. Tony would take more time to examine his surroundings, but an unforgiving wave of nausea slapped him in the face. He sat up, ready to sprint to the bathroom--or he would have, if he could. 

Tony managed to sit up just a little, but binding kept his arms connected to the bed. Panic shot through him, and he tugged at the ties. It barely moved--why did he feel so weak? “Hey…” He tried to call out, but his voice was scratchy and hoarse. “Hey!” He tried again, and he was a little louder. His own voice, though, bounced around in his head, causing him to lay back down with a hiss of pain. There was still no noise from outside the door, though. Had they dropped him off here? Tied him down to the bed and left him here to starve to death? Well, he supposed that was what happened when you pissed off the mob… 

“You have got to be kidding me!” He groaned in frustration. “Hey, asshole!” He shouted into the silence, “Fuck you!” What Tony sure as hell wasn’t expecting was the telltale sound of a key turning a lock. The door opened, and Tony sat up to see who the hell had brought him here. 

Jesus. Fucking. Christ. 

He stood in the doorway in a pair of dark dress pants. His jacket was gone, leaving his two guns exposed and his white shirt comfortably unbuttoned. Not a single stupid blond hair was out of place, and his ice blue eyes were as cold as the last time Tony had seen him. The fucking Captain.

Tony opened his mouth to cure him out, but The Captain cut him off with a gruff voice. “Stop yelling,” He ordered him, “It’s annoying. Knock it off.” His voice was as intimidating as ever, and Tony was infuriated as a base instinct to please reared its ugly head. He blinked a few times, and The Captain turned to leave again. 

“Hey!” He shouted once more, “What the hell, asshole? Why am I here?” 

The Captain turned back, cold indifference coloring his features. Tony held his ground, though, clenching his jaw and trying to pretend he wasn’t about to puke his guts out. Their stare down lasted nearly two minutes until The Captain broke the silence. 

“You’re not leaving until you get that shit out of your system.” 

Tony’s stomach dropped (churned again, too, for good measure). He had been in the drug scene for a while, he saw the desperate junkies, throwing whatever they could find over just to get a fix. It was horrifying, seeing the sick and desperate dependents, willing to do whatever they had to in order to avoid detox. Tony wasn’t about to do that, not here with The Captain, not tied down to a bed. 

His fear must have been obvious, as The Captain sneered at him, “You made your bed, now lie in it.” And with those words hanging in the air, the door slammed closed, the lock clicked, and Tony was all alone. 

* * *

 

_ Sleep was never something Tony had luck with. He had too many ideas bouncing around in his head. He couldn’t get his mind to shut up, but he couldn’t nail down anything, either. His mind was like water; easy to look at and observe, but always slipping through his fingers. Maybe that was why he could never please Howard. He always said a brilliant mind was wasted on him, there had to be some way to fix it.  _

_ Tony had tried pot, he was in his first year of college after all (even if he was only 15, and no one seemed to want to hang out with some weird kid at MIT). It helped a little bit, slowed down all the bouncing thoughts but also made them even harder to pin down. Tony wasn’t happy at school, either. He had been shipped off to different schools as soon as he could walk, but he hadn’t ever felt so alienated as he did at MIT. For one of the first times, he was eager to go back home when he could-- to work in his own lab space.  _

_ That was where Tony found himself now. He had given up on sleep a few hours ago, and was trying his best to get some blueprints drawn up. He let out a groan of frustration, balling up the paper he was working on and tossing it across the room. “Oh my god,” He whined, pressing his head against the cool metal of his table. “I’m an idiot, this is never going to work…”  _

_ Tony pushed himself up, brushing his messy hair out of his face. This wasn’t working, maybe he could just punch himself in the face until he passed out… He got to the top of the stairs, ready to go back to his room when he heard a groan from the office at the end of the hall. It was where Howard worked, it was where Tony sure as hell wasn’t allowed… but… his foot hovered on the last step for a moment before he changed his mind, walking forward the noise  _

_ When he rounded the corner, however, he found his father surrounded by papers. He quickly ducked back into the hall, but poked his head out, curious to see just what his father was doing.  _ _   
_ _ “Come on,” Howard muttered to himself, “This just needs a little change… I’m just missing something…” Tony could have laughed. Like father like son! It seemed Howard was struggling to make his ideas work, too. Good. The asshole could use a little humility.  _

_ Tony was about to leave, go back upstairs and take a shower or something, when Howard swore loudly. He froze for a moment, his stomach in the floor at the idea of being caught by his father, but the shout never came. He opened his eyes back up, watching as he pulled a little baggie out of his pocket, setting up a tray from the other side of the room. What was he doing…? It took Tony a moment to realize, watching Howard pour some powder out, take out a credit card and arrange it, lean down and--Holy shit. Holy shit! _

_ Howard snorted the line, then sat back with a groan, raking his hands through his hair. “Wait!” He exclaimed, “Wait, what was I thinking!? God, it’s so obvious…” _

 

_ Tony didn’t do anything about it until a whole two days later. Howard and Maria were gone for the night at some charity ball that Tony would only embarrass them at. He was stuck working in his lab as usual. “Fuck!” The 15-year-old shouted, pushing his work away from him in disgust. He still couldn’t make this work--why couldn’t he make this work!? It should be so simple!  _

_ He found himself at the door to Howard’s study without even thinking about it. He wasn’t supposed to go in there. He had tried to, once, when he was 11. His father backhanded him so hard it bruised; he never tried again. And yet here he was, pulling open his desk drawers and sifting through the contents. When he found the baggie, tucked away with a small tray and a razor blade, he stared at it in disbelief. It worked for his father… why wouldn’t it work for him?  _

_ Like father, like son, after all…  _

* * *

 

Tony had been hungover. Of course he had been, he’d been drinking to win since he was 13. But this here was a brand new monster. He was tied to the bed, which meant he couldn’t get to the bathroom. Which meant as the bile rose in his throat, he had nowhere to go. He turned himself to the side as much as possible, vomiting down the bed and onto the plush carpet. Ha! Take that, Captain, hope it’s a bitch to clean up, asshole.. 

His joy (if you can call it that) disappeared about… 10 seconds later. His stomach churned again when the smell hit him. What a cruel punishment, forcing Tony to just lay there with his own fluids. His body shot, his limbs feeling weak. He’d thrown up before, this was natural, but now he felt the icy grip of anxiety on his head. He was fine (probably), he knew he was fine (maybe!). So why did it feel like he was dying? Just a day before he’d been able to accept that fate, but he sure as hell wasn’t ready to do it now! No way in hell was he letting himself die tied down to a bed and  _ sober _ . 

Over the next hours, however, that determination was slowly leaking out of him. His body was rejecting everything inside of him, and now matter how much he tried to keep his dignity, he found himself sweating, shaking, and stuck laying in his own fluids. “Please…” He called out to the door, “Please! Come on, this is just cruel!” 

The silence of the plush room was unforgiving, though. Tony laid his head back down, hot tears running to his temples. Then, the lock on the door clicked open, and the man of the fucking hour walked in.    
“You’re a fucking monster,” He panted at The Captain, “Where the fuck do you get off, making someone  _ \-- no one-- _ suffer through this? I’m nothing! I’m no one, why are you--”

“Alright, that’s it, you’re too annoying, I’m leaving.” The Captain cut him off, turning to do just that.

“Wait!” The pathetic, strangled cry left him before he could stop himself. He had to swallow his pride, he had to survive this. 

“What,” The Captain demanded of him, glaring at Tony. 

He swallowed thickly, trying to phrase the request in a way that would lead The Captain to grant it. “Please, I’m disgusting--untie me?” 

The Captain smirked, “Good. You deserve to be disgusting. Maybe it will show you the horrors of what you’re doing to your body.” 

“Wait--!” Tony cried out again, but this time the door really did close, leaving him alone in the room once more. 

“Fuck.” 

* * *

 

It was an hour or so later that the door clicked open again, another man Tony had never seen before stepping in. He was about his height, and probably about ten years older. He had dusty blond hair, and wore surprisingly casual clothes. Still, he looked kind in a hoodie and sweatpants. Much less menacing than The Captain had. He didn’t have any noticable weapons on him, either. 

“Hey,” he greeted, trying to be a little less hostile than he was before, on the off chance that this man really was kind. “Here to finally let me out? I think I’m starting to smell, you know.” Tony even tried to laugh, but it sent a shiver down his spine, leaving him groaning in pain and dry heaving against the side of the bed.

The man came over, but quickly stepped back, holding his nose. “Oh, fuck that,” He grimaced. “Okay, yeah, I’m letting you out, Cap’s orders. You’re taking a fucking shower and we’re burning this bed, got it?”

If it wasn’t so humiliating, Tony might be a little relieved. The Captain seemed to hate him, sure, but at least he had a shred of humanity in him. Maybe. Once he was free, Tony all but ran to the bathroom. He made it about halfway before the world around him took a sharp turn and he found himself on his hands and knees, clutching at the plush carpet. “Fuck,” He panted, pressing his sweaty forehead to the ground as another round of shivers hit him again. He had to stay down for a little while, but soon enough was able to stand again, pulling off his shirt as he went. 

Once he was in the shower, Tony could have cried in relief. Well, actually he did cry in relief. His legs didn’t last long in the warm water, and he sat on the ground, just letting the water run over him. He’d never been so thankful for a shower in his life; not only because he was disgusting but because the rush of the water managed to hide the sobs that racked his body. What the hell was happening to him?

Tony looked up, the glass wall of the shower only slightly fogged, but he could still see the clear outline of another person. His blood ran cold, and he looked out again in disbelief. “...Dad…?”

The man didn’t move, and Tony shut off the shower, crawling across the bathroom floor to get another look. There he was. In all of his shitty glory, wearing those stupid suspenders and that red shirt he loved so much. He had a glass of scotch in his hand, and that grimace Tony was so used to. “Dad?”

“God, Anthony, get up,” He tutted at him, “it’s really pathetic, watching you like this.” 

Tony’s cheeks flushed with shame, but when he tried to stand, his legs gave out on him once more. He fell back onto the bathroom floor with a bang. “I--I can’t,” He huffed, the tears running down his cheeks, his arms wobbling as he did his best to keep himself up. “I can’t--Dad, I can’t…” 

“You can never do anything, Anthony!” His father snapped at him, “You can’t use the gift I gave you, you can’t bring honor to the Stark name, you can’t even decode the message I left for you!” 

Tony flinched back, but the code rang a bell. Wait… wasn’t his father dead? Hadn’t there been a car accident..? “Stop…” He scooted back as the figure approached him, “Stop!” His voice was as loud as he could manage, but still strangled and small as it echoed in the bathroom. “You’re not real--you’re not real!”

“I’m more real than you’ll ever be,” Howard scoffed, “Even when I’m dead I’m worth more than a fuck up junkie like you.” He raised his hand, and Tony flinched back again.    
“Stop! Don’t touch me!” He swatted at the other. His hand hit only air, and when he looked up again, there was only the man from before watching him with pity in his eyes. 

“No one’s touching you, kid,” He told him in a gruff voice. “Come on, get up, you gotta change the sheets before  _ I _ puke on them, too.”

* * *

 

“Why are you here?” Tony asked. He was sitting up again, laid out in the bed from before (clean now, though Tony had fallen flat on his face twice while he attempted to change it), and the man was sitting on the other side of the room in that desk from before. He didn’t answer at first, and Tony scowled the most he could in his current state. He was like that, only answering a handful of Tony’s questions and responding to a few of the things he said. It was like he couldn’t even hear him. 

“Come on,” He panted, another wave of  _ pain _ hitting him. It was like every muscle in his body decided to cramp again. He would be puking more if he could. When he looked at his hands, they were frighteningly pale. Detox didn’t kill people, did it? It sure felt like it. “Come on, just let me out of here, man. I’ll get the fuck out of your hair, find another city to shoot up in.” He could go to Chicago. Pepper lived there. 

Who the fuck was he kidding, there was no way in hell she would want to see him. And even less now that he really was a full-blown junkie. But god, all this pain would just go away if he had a hit. It didn’t even need to be anything big, just a little bit. Then he could start weaning himself off, little by little. Probably.

“Fat chance,” The man rolled his eyes, looking up from the magazine he was reading, “Even if I did want to help you, because I have some fucking deathwish or something, there’s no way in hell you’d ever make it off this estate.” 

Tony frowned, “When the hell even am I? I can’t be that far out of the city, am I?” 

“You’re about an hour out,” The man shrugged, “It’s nice out here, isn’t it? A good place to run shit without being in the thick of it.” 

“Yeah, can’t go getting too stressed running drugs and killing police officers…” Tony sighed to himself. He seized with another spasm, but they seemed to be coming less and less. The worst of it, he hoped, had passed.  “Come on, man,” He tried one more time, “Why am I here? What purpose could I possibly have..?” But the man didn’t answer, just kept thumbing through his magazine. “Hey!” He shouted, and the man finally looked up. 

“What?” He raised a brow at him. 

“At least tell me your name?” Tony huffed in frustration. 

“Oh, Clint,” He gave him a charming grin, and maybe if Tony wasn’t in so much pain he would find him attractive. 

“Ah, Clint. Well… why are you here? Why are you sitting here in this room with me?” 

Clint laughed, standing up and walking over to the bed. “Captain wanted someone to keep you occupied,” He explained and tapped his ear, “And he figured you couldn’t annoy me because I’m deaf.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow! I'm so happy to see so many people coming out of the woodworks for support. I'm just tickled pink you guys--and it encourages me to finish this thing!

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know what you think! Still a WIP! :)


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